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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26020876">when our hands finally fit</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefavourite/pseuds/thefavourite'>thefavourite</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Community (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Autistic Abed Nadir, Autistic Britta Perry, Bisexual Abed Nadir, Bisexual Britta Perry, F/F, Gen, M/M, Neurodivergent Study Group, Non-Binary Abed Nadir, Non-Binary Britta Perry, Stimming!!!, Trans Annie Edison, Trans Troy Barnes, author is autistic, gay troy barnes, lesbian Annie Edison</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:13:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,190</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26020876</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefavourite/pseuds/thefavourite</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>And this was a romantic comedy, so, of course, Britta felt the heat of the blazing sparks flying from their pale skin.</p><p>“C’mon, let’s get outta here.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Annie Edison/Britta Perry, Britta Perry/Jeff Winger, Dean Craig Pelton/Jeff Winger, Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>when our hands finally fit</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I didn’t proofread most of this - it was kind of posted on impulse!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When searching their brain in a desperate attempt to accurately describe themself, the Richard Siken quote </span>
  <em>
    <span>he doesn't know what to do with his hands </span>
  </em>
  <span>instantly snaps into Britta Perry's mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, really. They truly did not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Britta," Troy had called out to them on one such occasion, as the group mind's attention collectively floated over to them and the squishy ball in their hands. "Hey, Britta."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily enough, as Britta could not snap out of their natural daze for long enough to explain their habits, Abed was there to lend a helpful and understanding hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"They're stimming, love - it's natural for a neurodivergent person to do so. I'm stimming </span>
  <em>
    <span>right now</span>
  </em>
  <span>." They gestured to xyr interlaced and fidgety hands, wearing a small sort of satisfied smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a split second, Britta was able to divide their attention to flash Abed a thankful grin as he, in return, granted them an understanding thumbs up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was not like their personal issues were necessarily out of the ordinary for the study group, but after spending their adolescence surrounded by hardened, cold neurotypicals, Britta had been doing their very best to bury their afflictions. That was, until a fairly-normal day during their lunch period in which Abed casually slipped into a conversation on tips for focusing better that they had been diagnosed with autism at the ripe age of eight, at which point Britta </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally </span>
  </em>
  <span>felt comfortable enough to respond with the fact that they, too, were on the autistic spectrum. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Being a member of the study group was not even remotely close to having to constantly interact with neurotypicals in any way, shape, or form. The only issue was that none of them were aware about their own afflucationd yet, which was certainly not due to their own wrongdoings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry to ask, but…” Annie had spoken up one day while the two sat at lunch together. “I just want to know if anything I may be doing at, like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>any time </span>
  </em>
  <span>could bother you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I mean, you don’t have to apologize,” Britta assured her, stabbing their fork back into their half-eaten bowl of salad. “I could give you a list of my tics, if you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Resembling the simple flick of a switch, Annie’s lips upturned into a grin and she nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’d be great, thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In fact, it had not just been that singular occurrence that caused Britta to be further drawn to their type-a friend. Ever since they broke up with Jeff, they had found unlikely companionship with Annie, who was more than just a simple shoulder to cry on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, I’m, like, all for moral support and all that,” Annie had said to them on a groggy evening a few months before. “But I don’t wanna just </span>
  <em>
    <span>be your friend</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Do you understand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Normally, comprehending Annie’s loose words were a piece of cake for Britta, but they were abruptly stumped by the statement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you trying to seduce me, Annie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a teachable moment as the Edison woman snickered roughly and Britta then figured out quickly that she did not have sexual intentions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, maybe not in that moment at least. Most of the only friends Britta ever had were ones who linked up with them out of sympathy or even spite. But of course, the study group was miraculously different - </span>
  <em>
    <span>especially </span>
  </em>
  <span>Annie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll be playing with Jeff or Troy, I assume.” Britta had told her, speaking in an unnaturally eased-up tone. It was a seemingly-normal Tuesday in the spring in which Britta broke their normal routines and approached Annie first before a scheduled game of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Trivial Pursuit </span>
  </em>
  <span>that Abed and Troy had so intricately planned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would I?” Annie genuinely questioned, her chestnut-tinted eyebrows furrowed downward in naive confusion. “You’re my best friend, Bri.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From behind the duo, the study group’s most beloved romantic couple gently observed their interaction with a soft perspective on their exchange of words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See, Troy?” Abed told xem, a smile poking at their lips. “This is the part of the romantic comedy where they finally stop dodging each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm, I see,” Troy responded, pondering his significant other’s words. “But what about the grand romantic gesture? Could they just </span>
  <em>
    <span>skip it </span>
  </em>
  <span>like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They probably had it without all of us. In private. That’s how it works in the best way possible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From beside Annie, Britta rolled their eyes and scoffed, not allowing the two the words they so desperately desired in order to feed into their own romantic theories.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ignore them, they’ll give it up eventually,” Annie said to her pal, tapping the top of their steadied hand assuringly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And this </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>a romantic comedy, so, of course, Britta felt the heat of the blazing sparks flying from their pale skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon, let’s get outta here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are we headed?” Britta curiously asked as Annie lifted them up from their spot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh, the game won’t start for a bit,” Annie said. “I need some water or something before that, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a split second, Britta’s eyes scanned Annie’s expression deeply, a feeling of mutual impulsiveness that was so foreign to both of them running through their chilled veins as they stared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go.” Britta stated as the pair joyfully interlaced their arms and went on their way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, like clockwork, the most observant duoin the room piped up: </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Follow the yellow brick road, you two!” They shouted simultaneously, earning stuck out tongues on the exact same beat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe this was more than just a pity companion for Britta.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The most notable moment from that very year, though, was one that was so brief that a viewer could have left the room for a snack and missed it in its glorious entirety. After the clan had crammed all night for a biology exam, Britta and Annie happened to be the last to leave as they stayed at their usual spots chatting each other up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, so,” Britta has started to speak up, derailing ongoing conversation slightly. “You know how most couples fit together so perfectly? Like, when they’re kissing, or, uh, hugging or whatever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tapping her chin in a thinking moment, Annie nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And, like, when I stim, I don’t exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>where my damn hands fit…” Britta trailed off slightly. “What I’m saying is, maybe I miss the physical touch aspect of my relationship with Jeff more than, uh, him.”</span>
</p><p>Jeff had found this beauty in possibly THE most unlikely romantic pairing to ever exist at Greendale Community College - with the Dean.</p><p>
  <span>There was a flick of silence for a brief collection of broken seconds. And then, there was a surging impulsiveness as Annie practically leapt across the table to take Britta’s red-sprinkled face into her hands and press their lonely lips together, a magical combination of movements that not even <em>Abed</em> could have predicted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- I’m sorry, was that-” Annie’s question was cut off as Britta leaned back in, taking their own lead this time, for once in their life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, yeah - you could say Britta Perry finally knew what to do with their wandering hands for a few seconds there. Or maybe a few years. </span>
</p>
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